


Dog Eat Dog

by SecurityBreach



Series: The Coldest Realm [2]
Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Asgardians, Ambition, Bullying, Gen, Internalized Misogyny, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki has a heart, Loki tries to help, Loki's fighting skills, Loki's knives, Patriarchy, Pre-Thor (2011), Taking serious liberties with Norse Mythology, Thor's friends are dicks, Throwing Knives, Tournaments, Tyr supports Loki, adolescent Loki, courtiers, life at court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecurityBreach/pseuds/SecurityBreach
Summary: Thor's friends would doanythingto keep the prince commited to them. So what if Thor's younger brother Loki gets hurt in the procedure? Fandral, a young and ambitious courtier, couldn't care less. It's a dog eat dog world after all, and Fandral feels that Loki ought to be able to fend for himself just like everybody else.





	

One by one, Fandral watched them leaving.

His father first, and then his mother who cast him a long, worried parting glance that made the young man feel both comforted and embarrassed at the same time.

Fandral’s parents were followed by their entourage. His siblings were there, as well as a small group of fairly distant relatives like his first cousin once removed Friederike of Nornheim, a very wealthy and eccentric spinster, and his uncle by marriage Abbi of Alfheim, who had won his fame during the siege of Utgard. Oh yes, Fandral’s family knew very well how to count their ancestors, and they made a point out of being seen with their most prominent relatives whenever the occasion occurred.

And Tyr’s annual tournament in celebration of the arrival of spring was such an occasion. Everybody who mattered on Asgard was invited, and even if Idunn, the Goddess of Spring and Youth, turned down the God of War’s invitation on a regular basis reasoning that her season was the time for making love, not war, people still felt that no spring was complete without attending Tyr’s feast.

It had been a good one this year for Fandral and his friends. They had won their matches in several disciplines, which was not surprising when you had Thor, the God of Thunder himself, on your side.

Fandral smiled when he recalled their triumphs. Oh, he had earned himself quite a purse of gold in these three days, and for Fandral, the eight child of a famous warrior with at least one major saga to his name, this was no trifling matter. He remembered very well how his father told him that he would have to fend for himself because the family fortune and lands would eventually go to his oldest brother.

Unlike their royal family, the landed gentry of Asgard still believed in the concept of primogeniture.

 

But his father had given Fandral a good education in the arts of war, and when the boy showed some real talent for fencing and sword fighting, he had opened up the family’s weapon vault and gave his son two famous blades.

“I’m afraid there is not much more I can give you, Fandral,” his father had told him. “But I have some coin laid aside, and your mother and her ladies-in-waiting are already working on a new wardrobe for you. We want to take you to the royal palace of Asgard for the Winter Solstice, and introduce you to Odin.”

Fandral had only nodded. He knew that Odin, the All-father and absolute ruler of Asgard, was always looking for young men from renowned families to join the palace guards. With his fighting skills, his famous swords, and his notable family connections Fandral felt that there was a career ahead of him just waiting to get started.

And it had turned out even better than he and his father could have reasonably expected.

Because Thor, Odin’s firstborn son, had taken an instant liking to Fandral who was just slightly older than the popular prince. So instead of joining the royal guards and becoming just another uniformed and faceless figure in the endless corridors of the palace, Fandral found himself drawn into the inner circle of the royal family.

His father had been very happy with this. “This is a good start, son,” he said on their parting day. “But take care. Thor is a prince, and he is used to have his own way in everything. Be prepared to meet a lot of competition for his favours. Everybody wants to befriend Thor, and you might find yourself targeted by other courtiers who envy you your place. If this happens, don’t hesitate to write to your mother. She grew up at court, and knows how to handle this sort of thing. I think she is looking quite forward to be part of the palace intrigues again, even if it’s only from a distance.”

At this point, Fandral’s father interrupted his speech, mumbling something like _silly woman_ , _always nagging_ and _why can’t she just be content with what she’s got?_ Then he looked at his son again. “There is one more piece of advise I’d like to give you, Fandral. Please remember to keep an eye on Loki, Thor’s younger brother. He is clever and cunning, and has a reputation for mischief. Also, I have heard that the princes used to be rather close when they grew up, and somehow I think that Loki is the jealous type. He might not take well to his brother forming new connections.”

But everything had worked out fine so far for Fandral. He enjoyed being a member of Thor’s small band of warriors. There was Sif, a pretty girl with an ambition to become a shield maiden, and Volstagg, a warrior who was more known for the brutal force he used while swinging his axe than for his wit. Their latest addition was Hogun, a silent guy from Vanaheim who kept mostly to himself.

 

As strange and unlikely as it was, Fandral felt that he had found his place in life. The five of them fought together, had fun together and generally did everything together. So when Fandral’s father had asked him after Tyr's tournament to join his entourage instead of Thor’s for the long ride back to Glaðsheim, the capital city and centre of Asgard, it had taken the young man a few minutes to make a decision. In the end it had been Thor who had told him to go with his father.

“Spend some time with your _gov'ner_ , my friend,” Thor had said. “You’ll be pleased to find Loki at your side. My brother is travelling with your father because there seem to be a few minor points about some deed, or bond, or something similar to discuss. Really, I don’t know why people want to waste their time on such things.”

With this, Thor had spurned his horse, and left Fandral wondering what made the God of Thunder think that anybody would feel happy to ride next to his loathsome younger brother.

Because, _no_. If there was one thing that united Thor’s friend, it was their dislike and envy of Loki.

Loki, who was strange and weird, and a born outsider to boot. A scrawny, bookish boy who used magic like a woman. And still he was a prince and a god, and very much beloved by his mighty brother.

It _hurt_ to have someone like that set above them. Fandral and his friends did their best to estrange the siblings, but there was this place in Thor’s heart that seemed to be reserved for one person alone. This was where Loki lived, and no one, not even Thor’s closest friends, was allowed anywhere near that.

For Fandral, who had never had a close relationship with his brothers and sisters, this state of things felt pretty enigmatic. He _winced_ every time he had to watch Thor touching Loki’s neck, a gesture of such intense intimacy that made Fandral think it was not proper between siblings at all.

It was obvious that Thor needed to be saved from this disgrace of a brother, and Fandral made it his business to take Thor out to the taverns, and introduce him to the wenches who made their living there.

And Thor _liked_ it. He spend less and less time with Loki, who grew more and more irritable and quirky everyday. While Thor grew into a jolly fellow who enjoyed fighting, drinking and screwing, his younger brother became even more secluded than ever, working hard to gain Odin’s respect while totally failing at getting it.

 

This was the real tragedy behind the scenes. Loki was sitting there, virtually offering his heart to his father with open hands, and Odin just refused to take notice. The All-father was absolutely cold towards his younger son, and even Thor, following his father's example, started to neglect his brother, telling him to _know his place_ whenever Loki’s advice felt too much like an encumbrance or a call to responsibility.

His mother, Queen Frigga of Asgard, was the only member of the royal family to show some fondness for the younger prince these days. But she was a busy woman, and seldom had time to spare for Loki. In addition to that, most courtiers found that her decision to teach her son how to use his outstanding talent for magic and seiðr as if he was a girl highly questionable. All kinds of sorcery were considered womanish, and therefore inappropriate for a boy, especially for one who might be king one day. The general verdict was that Loki would be wise to follow Thor's example, and spend his time on the training ground honing his weapon skills instead of sitting in Frigga's bower or in the library.

 

People started to whisper about Loki's suitability to succeed Odin, even beginning to call him _argr_ , unmanly and cowardly, behind his back, and from Fandral’s point of view this looked very much like a step in the right direction.

 

Fandral thought that he had done a good job, and his mother agreed. She had helped so much with her letters of advise, and Fandral felt very proud that his mother was such a skilled intrigant. Her talents were clearly wasted on the family's country estate in a remote province where she had not much more to do than listening to the endless, repetitive tales his father told of his own feats of arms, visiting his father's rustic friends, and deviling the servants when her frustration became to much to bear. Even from afar, Fandral's mother had managed to analyse the situation at court with the utmost meticulousness and work out a plan to place a wedge into the royal family that would isolate Loki from Thor, and put Fandral in a position of power.

Much to Fandral’s surprise it worked. He would never forget the first time he had been invited to stand on the stairs leading up to Odin’s high seat. The whole court had to acknowledge him now.

Damn, the whole of bloody _Asgard_ had to acknowledge him.

People had started to call Fandral and his friends _The Warriors Three and the Lady Sif_ , which was probably as much of an honorific as could be expected.

And the expression on Loki’s face had been the best thing.

It was plain to see that the younger prince knew very well he had lost a move in the never ending battle that constitutes life at court. Still, even with his large green eyes cast down, Loki radiated an air of menace that told Fandral that this was far from over.

 

So finding himself riding next to Loki was more than just a little awkward.

 

Fandral decided to ignore Thor’s younger brother. It was easy, because Loki wouldn’t even look at him. The dislike was pretty much mutual. Still, the situation felt like a bitch, and because of that, and the prospect of having to spend another day riding next to Loki, Fandral had spend the evening and some of his hard-won gold to hang out with the camp followers and getting really drunk.

Unfortunately, Fandral got into a row with some gadabout he had never met before, and this caught his father’s attention.

 

”You know, son,” his father had said the morning after, and in front of the whole court. “I think you need some _quality time_ on your own, and this is why I confiscate this horse of yours. Please spend your time walking home with reflecting on your situation, and how it would befit a young man of your status to keep better company and watch his manners.”

There had been no choice but to accept his father’s verdict, because a father’s word was law. So Fandral watched his parents leave, followed by his siblings, his relatives, his friends, his mother’s bevy of ladies-in-waiting and father’s warriors. Until he was left behind, quite alone.

 

Or not so quite alone, as it turned out.

 

 _Someone_ had decided to stay behind and wait for Fandral.

 

And this _someone_ happened be Loki, of all people.

 

The young prince just stood there proudly, holding his horse by the headgear. He looked at Fandral with a thin smile on his lips. Loki was tall and slim with a gaunt face, short black hair and large green eyes, and Fandral wondered when Thor’s younger brother had grown so much.

 

“Go away,” Fandral said after a couple of moments of silent, mutual loathing.

”No,” Loki told him in return.

The best thing, Fandral thought, would be to ignore Loki and just start walking. And so he did, or, to put it more precisely, so he tried.

 

The trouble was that Fandral had taken a vicious kick by the drifter who had dared to offend him the night before. Now he had a strained ankle and a large, swollen bruise on his right leg, and he was forced to walk in some kind of light loafers because he couldn’t get himself to put on his high boots and irritate the sore spots any further. Each and every step just hurt so much, and Fandral wondered if he would ever make it back to the palace.

 

Loki huffed. “I’m offering you my horse, you know.”

 

Fandral tried to walk on while his whole body screamed at him for not listening to the distress signals. It didn’t work, and soon he found Loki at his side, leading his horse by the reins, and talking to him in a voice as neutral and unconcerned as if they were genially discussing the weather.

”You know, a bruise like this does _things_ to your bloodstream,” Loki said. “You really should be in bed with a cold compress attached to your leg. But since this is not an option right now, I’m offering you my horse to get you home as quickly as possible.”

Fandral didn’t answer.

”Please, Fandral? I'm talking to you.”

Fandral looked away.

”I only want to help you,” Loki whispered. "Am I not worthy of an answer?"

But Fandral wasn’t listening. He was only wishing for Thor's embarassing, wimpy brother to be done and gone.

 

And just as Fandral was contemplating how distasteful the whole situation was, and how disturbing he felt the pleading in Loki’s voice to be, his legs gave in. Fandral, who liked to call himself _the Dashing_ , literally felt his legs give way under him and sank into the dirt of the road. Only a few seconds later, Loki was kneeling at his side.

”I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not,” Loki said while worrying his fingers.

”And how are you planning to do this?” Fandral sneered, still trying to ignore his pain.

”Oh, that’s easy,” Loki said. “I know full well how much you despise me, you and this gang of abandoned creatures who spend their time sucking up to my brother. But _I am_ a prince of Asgard, and as such, I can give you orders. So, either you accept my offer, or you are going to explain to Odin himself why you refused to obey the words of _his son_ ”.

Loki shrugged as Fandral gaped at him. “Have it your way.”

It took Fandral only a heartbeat to make his choice, and though it felt slightly humiliating to ask Loki to help him mount his saddle horse, he knew that this was better than facing Odin’s wrath.

And Loki just _grinned_. “You know, my first thought was to trust you, and let you ride away on my stallion. But now I feel it would be better to lead you back home. I like my horse, and I don’t think you are trustworthy enough to take care of him.”

And with this, Loki took a firm hold of the reins again and started to walk.

 

Loki walked with long, even strides that made Fandral wonder where he had gained such stamina. The younger prince was generally thought to be some kind of a weakling who was way too fond of nesting under his mother’s wings while practising some low kind of magic solely fit for _females_. Fandral had been only too ready to join the other warriors of Asgard in laughing at Thor’s little brother. And even better, about five years ago, he had personally witnessed Loki pleading with Thor to accept him into his team for Tyr’s tournament.

Needless to say, Thor had refused him in favour of his newly found friends because everybody knew that the younger prince was not a bit skilled at fighting. Loki had spend the festival sitting next to his mother, Queen Frigga.

Fandral had felt a little sorry for the skinny boy who was obviously hurt by his brother’s rejection, but then again, it wasn’t his problem at all. Instead he told the story of Loki begging for acceptance at the nearest inn, and it was amazing how many pints of ale it bought him from total strangers who liked to hear the tale of a prince humbled by his own brother.

*****

 

The following years, Loki hadn’t even bothered to show up at Tyr’s springtime festival. Everybody, including his parents, had been surprised, and Tyr, the God of War, just raised an eyebrow and said that this was only to be expected.

But this spring, Loki was suddenly back again, and he had even enrolled himself for a competition.

Of all things, the younger prince had chosen _throwing knives_ to demo his dexterity as a fighter, a kind of weapon that was felt to be not quite respectable and worthy of an honourable warrior. Furthermore _, throwing knifes_ was one of the few disciplines open to single participants.

Asgard believed in the power of teamwork, and building up a working band of comrades-in-arms was felt to be a virtue in itself.

The news that Loki had not managed to find himself any shield siblings willing to team up with him, and that he was going to compete in a field that was generally regarded to be a bit on the low side, had spread like a wildfire at court. And people were laughing again.

_Oh, Loki was such a loser._

 

As a result, the tiltyard was crowded with spectators when Loki walked in, because everybody wanted to be present to see the young prince making a fool of himself.

 

The first surprise was that when Loki’s name was called up, he did he did _not_ walk in alone. The prince had Tyr at his side, and the God of War had a hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. And Loki did not walk. Not as such, though.

He kind of sauntered or ambled along, radiating an air of carelessness that ought to be _outlawed_. He looked as if the earth should be grateful to be touched by his feet.

Fandral, who was sitting next to Thor, felt how the God of Thunder straightened his back at this sight.

 

”Brother,” Thor whispered as Loki turned around to face the targets.

 

There were ten of them, and the idea was to hit the centre of each and every one as quickly as possible.

 

And Loki just _did it_. He threw his dratted knives, and hit his targets right into the centre without missing a beat. Moreover, he did so in record time, and everybody went silent.

 

Fandral knew he would never forget this moment. Loki was clad in the dark colours he seemed to favour, his leathers only adorned with a minimum of metal elements for protection. A light breastplate that blended in nicely with the rest of his apparel completed Loki's outfit. The prince was looking smart, fierce, and elegant while his armour was just the equivalent of _next to nothing_ as far as protective battle wear was concerned.

 _Damn_ , Fandral thought. _And I have antagonised this guy._ Next to him, Thor started to laugh and clap his hands wildly while shouting, ‘Brother,’ over and over again.

Tyr bowed slightly, and cast a challenging glance around the arena daring each and every one of his guests to look at his King's son the wrong way. “My Prince,” the God of War said finally in a pointed manner. And Loki only nodded, smiled at his mentor, and strutted away without acknowledging the crowd’s frantic approval of his remarkable feat.

When the final award presentation ceremony took place, almost everybody was disappointed that Loki would not take part. Fandral felt that the bastard was just too plain arrogant to please the crowd. Queen Frigga looked a little sad as Tyr picked up the golden goblet that was supposed to be Loki’s price, but Thor clapped wildly again while Tyr just said that this was only to be expected. Afterwards, he handed the goblet to Thor, who promised to give it to his brother. But somehow he forgot, and Loki’s trophy ended up among the other dusty relics on Thor’s shelf.

*****

 

Perhaps, Fandral thought, it would be better to try and start to talk with Loki. He seemed to be stuck with Thor's brother for the time being, and felt that he might as well try and curry a favour with the young god. So he made what he felt were some clever remarks on the weather, the landscape, and Sif’s cleavage.

This only earned him a snort from the prince.

”Just drop it,” Loki said. “You don't have to talk to me, Fandral, I’m just trying to do the decent thing here. I have offered you my friendship long ago, and you declined it.”

”You think this is the decent thing?” Fandral asked, and started to laugh. This was unbelievable. “Do you get anything at all? My _father_ told me to walk back home, and you chose to overrule his command. I guess I’m going to be the laughing stock of Asgard from now on because of your actions.”

”This is quite an accusation, Fandral. So pray tell me, what have I done to deserve your scorn so much?”

But Fandral had made up his mind and decided that it would be better to shut up, and let the conversation die down. Young as he was, Loki was known to be a clever one with words, and the nickname ‘Silvertongue’ had been well earned by the boy. It was better not to give him any opening at all.

And so they went on in silence, side by side, Fandral riding Loki’s horse while the young prince lead the stallion by his rein. The boy never slowed down, and he never looked up at Fandral. The only thing Loki seemed to be concerned about was the welfare of his horse, and he paused frequently to let the animal drink, and caress his long nose.

*****

 

When they reached the grounds of the royal palace, the first persons they encountered were Thor, Sif, Hogun, and Volstagg. The latter ones were looking concerned, while the Thunderer laughed, and greeted Loki with a bear hug of an embrace.

Fandral realised that Thor had been on the lookout for his brother for hours.

“Loki,” the God of Thunder said. “Where have you been the whole day? I was waiting for you all the time.” Thor put his hand on Loki's neck in the old familiar way Fandral disliked so much, and gave him his brightest smile. The older prince was obviously not only pleased with his brother's success at Tyr's tournament, he also liked the way Loki had assisted his injured friend on his long way home.

Volstagg and Hogun helped Fandral to get off the stallion. Their eyes met, and they all knew that something had to be done.

Because it would not do to let Loki sneak back into Thor’s graces so easily.

”You ought to be ashamed of yourself to make Thor worry so much, Loki,” Sif said suddenly.

Fandral took the cue and gave the prince a cold smile. ”Oh, please don't blame me for Loki's delay. The stupid boy kind of inflicted his company on me. I tried to send him away, but he went all _princely,_ and ordered me to entertain him all the way home.”

 

”What?” Loki asked in a surprised voice.

 

Volstagg laughed. “So you fell victim to Little Prince Mother Hen here? Come, my friend, I think you need a drink. There is a feast in the Great Hall, and Odin has invited all of us.”

”All five of us,” Hogun added as an afterthought.

Loki blushed, and looked at his brother for support. But Sif had already grabbed Thor by the arm. “Let’s go, my friend,” she said. “You know how much Queen Frigga dislikes waiting. And she has already asked for you an hour ago.”

 

Good move, Fandral thought. Mentioning the Queen always worked well with the brothers. He had no idea how Frigga had done this, but sometimes Fandral felt that her word carried more weight with the princes than Odin’s.

"I'll see you later, brother," Thor said, looking back while Loki just stood there, completely stunned.  


 *****

 

An hour and a half later, Fandral was downing his third goblet of honey wine. Loki hadn't shown up for the feast, and Fandral felt that this was a  _ good thing.  _ Perhaps he wasn't too happy with the part he played today, and he felt slightly embarrassed as he remembered that he hadn't even thanked the prince for helping him out. Fandral's leg had started to hurt again at the thought, and the young warrior ordered another cup of mead to make the throbbing sensation go away.  


 

I really need to go and see a healer first thing tomorrow morning, he thought, taking another sip of his drink. Damn, the pain was excruciating and this just _couldn't_ bode well.  


Soon Fandral realized that he was drinking to forget tonight.  


He was trying to forget how much fun it had been to steal Loki's moment of triumph by diverting Thor away from him. Loki and Tyr must have been practising in secret to surprise the court like they had done. Fandral was sure that they had planned this. He still heard Thor's shouts of mirth and awe, and yes, he wanted to forget those too.  


Because deep in his heart, Fandral knew that he had not only wronged Loki, but Thor too. He and his friends shouldn't have stepped in and stopped the brothers from celebrating Loki's success together. Now Thor was sitting next to Fandral, also drinking deeply, and watching the hall's entrance all the time.  


 

Fandral felt pretty sure that Thor kept looking for his brother.  


 

Well, that was life at court for you. Everything was politics, and Fandral had a living to make. It's a dog eat dog world, and so what if he had made an enemy out of his King's son, a guy who was known to be highly intelligent and learned, and who had suddenly and without warning turned out to be vastly skilled with knives?  


_ Those knives. _ Loki's long, nimble fingers and his swift, determined movements had made a lasting impression on Fandral's mind, and he knew that it would take a lot more than four cups of sweet wine to erase the frightening picture. This is such stuff as nightmares are made on, the courtier thought.  


"Another," Fandral shouted, and smashed his goblet to the ground. Everybody, including Thor, laughed because Fandral was just this guy. Fandral smiled merrily, trying to push away another scary image that he would have liked to forget about.  


 

It was the moment the expression on Loki’s face turned from boyish confusion to utter hatred, when Fandral realised that he had just made an enemy for life. Somehow Fandral kept hearing Loki's calm and sophisticated voice inside his head telling him again and again that the prince would never forget this moment too, and that the young courtier would have to watch his back from now on.  


 

Fandral sighed, and cursed his luck for letting him step into Loki's way while underestimating the prince so much. And as he started to drink his fifth goblet of honey wine, Fandral wondered if he would ever feel save again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you like, because I'd really love to know your opinion. Thank you very much!


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